Duncan
Blitz was having a bad day. The mast wouldn't go up on his microwave
truck and the power zoom on his wide lens was sticking. We'd been on
the road so much, he couldn't look his dog Wiley in the eye. His kid
needed orthodontia, his ex-wife was peeved, and his agent was useless.
By the time he cleared the security door to the KYUK newsroom at noon,
Dunc was frazzed. I gave him a double espresso with a shot of half-and-half
from a café called Albuquerque Allo and waited for the caffeine
to kick in.

With the truck in the shop, the News Department sent
us out to shoot promos. "Can the contents of this backpack hurt
your child?" asked Kath Kishbek, our consumer reporter, "Find
out tonight at 10." "That was three and a half seconds,"
I said. Can you make it four? The Production Department wanted a :05
and a :15, including one second for the station logo. "Can the
contents of this backpack hurt your child?" asked Kath. Dunc: "we
had a truck." (meaning, the engine noise). Kath: "Can the
contents of this backpact hurt your child?...I fluffed that, I'm going
again.... Can the contents of this backpack hurt your child?" Duncan:
"EFF THIS FRIKKING LENS! I'm sorry, I need another one." Kath:
"Can the contents of,.. you think it's better if I say, of THIS
backpack? Can the contents of THIS backpack hurt your child?" Me:
"It's fine the way you've been doing it, Kath. Angle your right
shoulder towards the camera. Is the reflector okay, Duncan?" "It's
fine. Any time, Kath." "Three, two, one, Can the contents
of this backpack hurt your child? Find out tonight at 10." I never
understood why some reporters do an audible countdown. We start their
standup when they start talking, whether they count it down or not.
Me: "Four seconds exactly." "That's a keeper," said
Duncan. "Want to see it?"

Kath wore the headphones and watched herself in Duncan's
black and white viewfinder: "Can the contents of this backpack
hurt your child? Find out tonight at 10." "Okay, it's good...Want
to shoot an insurance?" she asked. Insurance is an extra take,
in case a Gremlin, or and Act of God, ruins the tape between the time
we shoot it and the time it's dumped to the AVID edit system. "Sure,"
said someone, and Kath got back on her mark, putting her toes against
a little stick we had set on the ground. She checked her hair and waited
for me to put the reflector in, and for Duncan to roll the camera, and
wiggle his finger to cue her, and said, "Can the contents of this
backpack hurt your child?"

Duncan handed Kath the tape with the :05, the :15,
and one insurance take, each. She waved bye, tape in hand, backpack
over her shoulder. My cellphone rang and Duncan's pager beeped. Our
assignment editor, Bev Barkowitz: "Hey, guys, I have an interview
for you in Northeast Heights, before you break for lunch." I took
down the info while Duncan drove the Explorer through Mickey D for pre-lunch.
Dunc ate a Big Mac, sipped his Dr. Pepper, and drove with his knees
while I did my best to keep burger crumbs off my sweater, already flecked
with alfalfa.

At the Malmart pharmacy we met Rx Bob, a pharmacist
with a sweet smile and the ten-thousand mile stare. He'd been a pretty
good interview during the anthrax scares. We stood him up at his counter:
"Can you say something so I can get an audio level on your mic?"
Rx Bob: "I sell drugs and I take drugs," Me: "You know
anything about Fentanyl?" "Yeah, it's a lot like heroin."
Me: "That's what the Russians used, to gas the theater." "You're
kidding? Really? are you sure?" "The Russian Health Minister
announced it." "Evidently it wasn't a very safe choice,"
said Bob. "I have a hard time believing they would use Fentanyl,
or even stock that much."

A shopper: "What Channel are you?"
Me: "Channel 7."
Shopper: "What's going on?"
Me (will it make sense if I say we're interviewing the pharmacist about
the gas the Russians used in the theater?): "A report on the economy."
Shopper, to friend, "It's Channel 7."

"Okay, are we ready to rock and roll?" I
asked Duncan.
"Speed," he said, referring to the frame rate of his betacam.
"Bob," I said, "what is fentanyl?"
"Fentanyl is a synthetic narcotic. It acts on the central nervous
system. The biological effects of fentanyl are indistinguishable from
that of heroin with the exception that fentanyl may be more potent."
"Was fetanyl a good choice at the Moscow theater?"
"It's a pretty good drug, but not for warfare. Aerosols are tricky
in that you don't know what they are going to do in an enclosed space."
"Tell me about the antidote."
"You can reverse it quick with a drug like Narcan, but you have
to use it quickly."
"Great, thanks Bob."
Duncan made a few B-roll shots of Rx Bob filling a prescription.

We brought the tape back to the station and Bev broke
us for lunch. She said Engineering was working on the mast, and we could
probably have our Live Truck tomorrow. Duncan's bad day was getting
better. We picked up burritos from Acapulco on San Mateo, about a mile
from Kirtland Air Force Base. "Duncan, you're crowding me,"
I started to say, when I realized he wasn't behind me in line. Something
was not right.
me: "Dunc?"
Duncan: "what the... you see that?"
me and Dunc: "UFO!"
Duncan ran to the Explorer for the betacam and I pulled out the sticks,
planting them in the parking lot.
D: "Frikking zoom's stuck."
A: (silent)
D: (nothing)
Duncan: "I can't hold the camera down."
Whatever it was, it was sucking the camera, the sticks and Duncan from
the parking lot of the Acapulco. I threw my arms around Duncan's waist
and saw a flash through my tightly shut eyes.
The camera and sticks were sucked up to the UFO. abducted. gone.